I’m coming down. From dehydration. Intoxication. Fatigation. That’s not a word. But it works. I feel like I’ve been away for a month. Not two weeks. Vancouver to Toronto to New York… Read More
I touch things. Feel. Pet. Caress. I connect with my hands. My arms. My lips. My feet. I’m writing this while my insoles are being massaged with knowledgeable knuckles. My calves are… Read More
Every day. Every day I want to throw in the towel. Give up. End it. Put my pen down. You’re not a writer. You have nothing to say. No one cares. Don’t… Read More
June 19, 2014 Dear Ian, I don’t know what the world will be like in 20 years. Or 10. Or 5. Or even tomorrow. It might not be here. It could be… Read More
Published on The Province blog, May 10, 2014 When I stepped into the Vogue Theatre last Saturday night, I wasn’t there to write about a show. For the first time in the… Read More
I like to do things backwards. Begin at the end, start at the finish. After writing a screenplay last year, I decided to undertake the task of expanding it into a novel.… Read More
Painting pictures with words.
I write short stories, tall tales, love letters, newspaper and magazine editorials, corporate literature, a screenplay & novel, and in my diary. I flirt with words, spin sentences, dance with metaphors, and create new clichés.
Tongue tickling cheek.